


paper rings

by whataboutateakettle



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Embedded Images, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 11:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataboutateakettle/pseuds/whataboutateakettle
Summary: “They implied that we didn’t think it through - that it was an impulsive decision.” “I mean, it kind of was an impulsive decision.”//Technically a story about love, but mostly a story about three grown men struggling to talk about their feelings.





	paper rings

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a while, but a certain podcast interview has motivated me to finally finish and post this. 
> 
> I've never tried embedding images on ao3 before, and I've certainly never done social media manips before so... <strike> please ignore that part if it's awful </strike>
> 
> Completely fictional/AU/headcanon/etc. **Please keep this safe and secret.**

**last thursday, 11:16am:**

* * *

**monday, 10:54 am:**

“I don’t understand,” Jon says at the exact same moment Tommy says, “What the hell?”

Lovett looks around at the otherwise empty conference room for someone to help him out. It’s not really _ that _complicated, but maybe Ronan was right when he warned him against breaking the news this way.

“Look, it’s not a huge de-,” he says, shrugging his shoulders a little to emphasise how small, exactly, the deal is. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Jon cuts him off. Next to him, Tommy fixes Lovett a look which he takes to mean he’s with Jon on this one. 

“_You _ got married. You and Ronan.” There’s a beat. Tommy takes a very long sip of his La Croix as Jon clarifies, “_Legally _ married.”

“Yes, of course me and Ronan! Who else would I get married to?!”

There's a moment where no one says anything at all, and Lovett watches as Jon and Tommy exchange a careful look. Jon looks halfway between incredulous and incredibly pissed off, and Tommy chews his cheek the way he does he’s struggling to find something nice to say. Honestly, the whole thing is making Lovett feel a little sweaty. 

“You guys know it’s legal now, right?”

It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be a joke. But both of them look at him so sharply that he can safely say it did not land. He presses his lips together and stays quiet.

Tommy and Jon exchange yet another look, before Tommy speaks. “How do you _ just decide _ to get married?”

“Didn’t both of you decide to get married?”

“No, that’s -” Jon starts suddenly, sits forward in his chair, one hand running over his face and around to the back of his head. “We _ decided _ to propose. After we’d both had conversations with our girlfriends about marriage. It wasn’t on some… _ whim _ -”

“What Jon means - we didn’t even know you _ wanted _ to get married, Lovett” Tommy adds, cutting Jon off. 

Lovett considers for a moment that maybe these two genuinely don’t know there is more than one way to get married. That maybe you don’t have to agonise over proposing for six months, and then spend another year obsessively planning a magical New England fairytale wedding? That maybe you don’t need to match the flowers to the napkins to the ties. Maybe - _ maybe _ you can just be in-fucking-love with your partner and decide - on a Tuesday night in Connecticut - to ask him to marry you. 

Maybe he’s getting a little riled up.

“_Oh-kay _ , like Ronan and I have never talked about marriage before?” He’s half ready to get out of his chair and make a show of it now, “Give me a - Give us some credit. We’ve been together longer than - I mean, so what. _ So what _ if we just decided to get married. And anyway, I _ did _ propose. Maybe I didn’t have a ring or a - a flashmob.” What is he even saying? “_I _ proposed and Ronan said yes and then we got married.” 

“Uhhh, sorry guys, do you need a minute?” A voice says suddenly. Not Jon or Tommy, it’s Brian, holding an open laptop in front of him, clearly ready for the production meeting they are supposed to be having right now.

Lovett closes his mouth, sits back in his chair. 

* * *

**last thursday, evening:**

  


* * *

**monday, 1:37pm:**

“They were weird. Like. Angry?” he says.

“Angry?” Ronan asks. He’s in a cab, stuck in traffic and Lovett doesn’t consider it irrational at all that he’d honestly rather be stuck in Manhattan rush hour traffic that sitting in an empty shared office, staring at a slack channel so quiet it feels like it’s taunting him. He hasn’t even had lunch yet.

He hears Ronan’s voice telling him he’s overreacting, and he can’t be sure whether he’s really spoken or not. 

“Yeah,” he nods. “They implied that we didn’t think this through - that it was an impulsive decision.”

Ronan hums, “I mean, it kind of was an impulsive decision.”

“No it wasn’t,” he retorts, instantly defensive. 

“Jonathan, you know what I mean. Intuitive, spontaneous. _ Romantic. _” Ronan pauses, considers his words, “Do you think they might just be upset that they weren’t more involved?”

“I don’t know. ” He starts, and his phone starts to vibrate in his hand. “Maybe - Hold on I’m getting like a bunch of texts,” he says, pulls his phone away from his ear to check the screen. 

“It’s Emily,” he says, bringing the phone back to his ear, unable to stop the smile on his face. “I guess Jon told her.”

“You hadn't told her?! Jonathan, _babe_, you truly do have a death-wish.”

“She’s mad I’m not answering her texts,” he says, already thinking about what he's going to say when he calls her back. 

“Just tell her you were too busy talking to your husband,” Ronan’s voice drops a little as he draws out the word and Lovett hates how much he absolutely loves it. It’s stupid, it’s irrational, it goes against everything he stands for. 

“Stop it.” 

Ronan laughs softly, and he feels a little warmer. 

* * *

**monday, 2:24 pm:**

Somehow, Emily’s convinced him to let her throw him - _ and Ronan _ \- a retroactive bachelor party. 

He’s not very good at saying no to Emily at the best of times, but he calls her back and she’s so excited; flitting between telling him how happy she is and questions about how it all happened and back again before he can even answer them. It squeezes at his heart and honestly he probably would have said yes to anything she wanted. He does draw the line at strippers though. 

She squeals in delight as he acquiesces, and he almost immediately regrets the decision. It’s probably too late now. Emily’s superpower is love and organisation, both socially and politically, and imagines she already had a guest list put together before she even asked him. 

But he can’t even begin to think about it before his phone buzzes again: Hanna. 

* * *

**monday 4:07pm:**

By the time Tommy gets back to the office, Lovett’s half-heartedly considering forming a search party. Lovett pulls off his headphones, hangs them around his neck, waits for Tommy to say something about the fact that both he and Jon had left the office before lunch and only one of them had come back. 

Except Tommy doesn’t say anything, just gives Lovett a weak nod, before closing the door behind him and heading over to his own desk. 

“Where’s Jon?” he asks finally, focusing his eyes back down on his screen, hands perched carefully over his keyboard as though he was in the middle of typing some very important and/or hilarious. 

“He, uh, he went home,” Tommy says, not making any attempt at eye contact.

Seriously? Seriously. He can’t quite believe that a guy he’s known for so many years is actually like such a fucking -

“He, uh, he said he’d take Leo and Lucca home and he’d finish the edits for Wednesday and send them through later,” Tommy adds quickly, almost as if he’s making up an excuse on the spot. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he snaps, harshly enough that even Tommy looks surprised. 

“I don’t -” Tommy starts. But Lovett’s not about to let him off the hook. He pushes his chair back from his desk angrily, get up and walks over to the sofa, drops himself down in a huff. 

“Both your wives are very happy for me, you know. They’re throwing me a party. To celebrate my _ marriage _. Maybe you two could learn a thing or two instead of this weird tantrum you’ve both got going on.” 

Tommy gapes at him for a moment before pushing his chair back and walking over to the couch. He sits himself down, more cautious than Lovett, then leans his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands. 

“That’s not wh-” He sighs, eventually looking over at him, “Lovett. You really don’t get it? We’re happy for you. We really fucking are. It just - you were a groomsman at Jon’s wedding.

“I wasn’t a groomsman at yours,” he points out immediately, and then holds up a hand, “Don’t - it’s fine. I _ GET _ it. It’s not about -” Lovett pauses, takes a long deep breath. Tommy looks grateful for the break as well, having trouble following the verbal whiplash. 

“You were one of the first people to know I was even thinking about proposing to Hanna,” Tommy offers, voice softer, apologetic. “We just… felt blindsided, I guess.”

Lovett hums, considers that maybe these are acceptable feelings followed by truly unacceptable behavior. 

“We talked -” Tommy adds, eyes widening, “_Jesus _, we spoke on Thursday. On the phone! You had just gotten married and I was asking you about schedules.”

“Ronan may have said I should have told you,” he admits, offers it like an olive branch. “I just, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Tommy scoffs. “You love making a big deal.”

“Wow,” Lovett says, in faux-offense. Then he softens, angles his body towards Tommy, remembers what his old therapist said about trust and opening up.

“We just… it was always on the cards, you know. It was just never the right time, or we didn’t have time or whatever. I think I was scared of things changing you know? Because things are good, really good, _finally_. But nothing’s changing! Ronan’s still in New York, I’m still here. ”

Tommy exhales loudly, “I don’t know how you do it, man. If I had to live so far away from Hanna I don’t know how I would cope.” Tommy looks at him, eyes a little glassy and Lovett believes him. 

“It’s, uh, honestly it’s not that bad,” he clears his throat a little awkwardly, “It’s not _ always _ great, obviously, sometimes it’s really fucking shitty. But it works. For us. Plus, you know, trust, communication, facetime_ etc. _ ” 

The thing is, he does have words for this, but they are reserved for Ronan, for the conversations they’ve had throughout the years, for the _ one, five, ten _ year plans they make while they’re curled around each other. For the routine they’ve built that means they talk every single day, even if it’s for 30 seconds. For the homes they’ve bought and built together, on opposite coasts. The thing is, this bicoastal arrangement means that they both get to do what they love, while also getting to love each other. It means they both get to be the best possible version for one another. That’s how it works. That’s how they do it. 

* * *

**monday, 8:26pm:**

He doesn’t actually hear the doorbell ring, but Pundit apparently does and immediately jumps off the couch, barking loudly. He wonders for a second whether he’d ordered anything from postmates and immediately forgotten about it, which, to be fair, has happened before. He pauses the TV and hauls himself onto his feet. Is this what being married feels like? Sore feet after a day of mostly sitting on different chairs? 

Pundit’s barks a couple more times as he gets to the door and he shushes her unconvincingly before pulling it open. 

It’s Jon, who looks as unsure about being there as Lovett is about him being there. And also Leo, which is probably why Pundit barks one more time, just in case Lovett didn’t get the memo. 

“Hi,” Jon says sheepishly, and holds up the sixpack he’s got in his hand. “I brought Miller lite.”

Lovett’s raises an eyebrow at this transparent attempt at bribery, already stepping aside to let Leo in. “You may come in.”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t your wedding gift,” Jon says, bending down to unclip Leo’s leash while Lovett closes the door behind them. It’s a joke, a very Favreau joke. He says it with an uncertain laugh, and then nods more seriously. “That’s still coming.” 

Lovett’s grateful when Jon keeps moving heads over towards the living room, because they’re a high chance they would’ve just stayed there in an awkward silence if it had been up to him. Jon places the beer on the coffee table, pulls out a can and opens it before Lovett even gets there. He wrangles his own can out of the holder and pulls the tab. The crack and release feels loud in his living room, HBOgo on pause, even Pundit and Leo are quietly eyeing up the same dog toy. Lovett imagines that if he were to suggest they finish the episode together, Jon would agree, eager as Lovett is to avoid whatever conversation they need to be having right now. 

“Sorry. That I didn’t tell you earlier. I mean -” he shifts. That’s the thing, isn’t it. He’s not sorry. “I’m, um, I’m really happy? It was exactly what we wanted, and yeah, I guess you’re right, it was impulsive, but that’s not usually something we get to do, you know? But. It would have been nice to have you there in some way. I get why you’re pissed off.”

“I’m not,” Jon says, shaking his head, “Well, I guess I was at first. I, uh, I could never imagine my wedding without you.” He taps his finger against the can nervously, “You gave that terrible speech at my wedding and ever since then I’ve been thinking about what I would say at yours. I guess I was upset that I missed that chance.” 

“First of all, that speech was excellent. Everyone loved it, including your dad,” Lovett says lightly trying to ignore the absolute tidal wave of emotions this is bringing up for him. About Jon, about Ronan, about being married, and being loved. “And second of all, you still can. I mean, not right now because that would be… weird for everyone involved. But, uh, no one is stopping you. I’m definitely not.”

Jon takes a sip of his beer, “Emily’s throwing you guys a party. Whenever Ronan is back.” 

“I heard,” he nods, smiles at him, “Next month.”

Jon grins back, earnest and excited, then pauses. “Are we, uh, are we public about this?” He asks, and they both immediately make a face at the fact he even had to ask the question. “I don’t think anyone at work will say anything.” 

Lovett nods, feels relieved suddenly that throughout this whole day of turmoil, he never once worried about his friends telling anyone who didn't need to know. He knows people who don't have that, and it must be a true nightmare. “I mean, it’ll come out eventually, but for now... Like people we know, sure, no problem. But maybe not _public _public just yet."

He and Ronan have talked about it, considered that maybe it's best releasing the news themselves before anyone else turns it into gossip. 

Jon nods, understanding, and then lets out a long breath, “Holy shit, man, I can’t believe you’re _married_. How do you feel?”

“It's good, you know, maybe people are onto something with this whole marriage thing.”

* * *

**sometime next month:**

Emily throws them a White Party because "there's no bride so there's no one to upstage." So, here he is, comfortably buzzed on the champagne that keeps appearing in his hand. He’s wearing white jeans that he bought specifically for tonight. He hasn’t actually seen Ronan in like an hour because there’s so many people here, for their _ wedding party _. 

It was good, things were good. Tonight they celebrate, and tomorrow he and Ronan get to go on a honeymoon. It’s only six days, which they managed to squeeze in by moving next week’s taping to Saturday, but it is six days, ideally with no phones and a lot of room service. 

“Hey,” a hand lands on his back and he looks up to find Ronan, somehow glowing under the string lights that have been installed in his backyard. He wonders who he has to talk to about keeping them. Emily and Hanna really had gone all out. Frankly, it’s ridiculous and Lovett is half expecting someone to actually get married tonight. 

“You having a good time?” He asks, smiling up at him. Ronan leans down and kisses him gently. 

“Mm,” he hums, pulling back, “Emily’s been plying me with so much champagne I’m convinced she’s got an ulterior motive for all of this.”

He laughs loudly, but before he can say anything, Emily herself sidles up to them in her own white dress, and waves to shush them. “Guys, Jon’s about to give his speech.”

“Oh no,” Lovett groans, regretting immediately the express permission he gave for this exact thing. 

“Oh yes,” Emily grins, winding an arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder, “Are you ready for this?”

There’s a glass clinking, and suddenly the whole crowd reconfigures around them, so that he and Ronan are standing in the middle of a giant semi-circle. Even Emily seems to have fallen away somewhere. He looks around, spots her running a hand through Hanna’s hair as Tommy laughs at something they’re saying. 

“Hey, everyone, thanks for coming tonight,” Jon says, suddenly standing a few feet in front of them, dressed in a crisp white shirt that makes him look more tan than usual. He’s got his phone in his hand, and Lovett considers reminding him later that _ he _ didn’t need notes when he spoke at Jon’s wedding. “I’ll keep this short, don’t worry. Lovett spoke at my wedding a few years ago and that day I made two vows. One to my lovely wife Emily, and the other to myself that I would get Lovett back for that speech.”

“Now, I don't really have a lot of stories about Lovett's dating life before Ronan. I mean, I do but they aren't that funny. They're kind of sad actually.”

“You fucker!” Lovett says, loudly over the crowd’s laughter, before he gives in to laughter himself. It’s not untrue. 

“But, in the spirit of embarrassing him, which is what tonight is all about, I did want to share something I don’t think Lovett’s ever told anyone. Maybe he doesn’t even remember it.” Jon grins and Lovett frowns, suddenly very concerned what deeply repressed memory Jon was about to dig up. 

“Some of you might know, when Lovett had already given his letter of resignation to the Whitehouse when he met Ronan. We’d all begged him not to, and since Lovett is as compromising and flexible as he is, he didn’t listen to any of us. Even Barack Obama couldn’t change his mind. Until he met a dashing, _very_ young man from State, who was, as Lovett described in his own words "so hot I could literally melt."

_ God. _ State feels like it was several lifetimes ago. And he looks up at Ronan, his hair longer, the lines around his eyes as he laughs. It was. Lifetimes ago. 

“One morning Lovett walks in with a sort of dazed look on his face. There's no _“good morning Jon”_, no _“sorry I’m coming in at 10 am when I’m supposed to be here at nine”_, he just looks at me and says _“Do you think I should stay in D.C.?”_ I thought maybe he was hungover and regretting his life choices, but I’d seen Lovett hungover before and I’d definitely seen him regret his choices before, and this didn’t seem to be either of those. And I wasn't sure what he meant because he'd been wanting to leave for ages, I didn’t know what could’ve suddenly made him second guess that when even the president couldn’t. And it wasn’t he finally introduced me to Ronan himself, and I saw Lovett look at him with that same dazed expression that I figured out what it was.”

“But anyway, back to that morning, eventually he ate an entire breakfast burrito, came to his senses and decided to follow his dreams out to L.A. And thank god he did because if he hadn’t Tommy and I probably wouldn’t be here today.”

“Lovett, I don’t think you know how much you change people’s lives, for the better. You’ve changed mine and Tommy’s. We came to California because of you, and we built this amazing company with you. And we really cannot thank you enough for that. I know you’ve changed Ronan’s life, and I've watched you build a one together. Ronan, man, thank you for loving and supporting Lovett, always and unconditionally, no matter where you are.”

And then everyone’s clapping and Ronan hums into his ear, leaning over his shoulder. “You never told me that."

What? Lovett asks, blinking away the tears before they mess with his contacts.

"That you considered staying in D.C. for me.”

“Shut up,” he says, whacking at his chest half-heartedly, “It was only for like 30 seconds.” 

It’s a lie, but Ronan doesn’t need to know everything. They’ve still got years for that.

* * *

**later still:**

The Official Favreau-Vietor Wedding Gift is waiting for them when they get home from their honeymoon and while Lovett is certainly pleased that Ronan's spending another couple of days in L.A. before going back to New York, he almost forgets about that when they find the giant wrapped mammoth of a present sitting in their living room. It's a painted portrait of them, and it must be six feet tall because it's definitely taller than him. They look like royalty, and Pundit's painted lying on a velvet cushion on his lap. Ronan's holding a golden goblet. Honestly it's atrocious.

Lovett wants to hang in the hall. 

* * *

**whenever:**

* * *

**back to the start (last tuesday):**

The rest of the Farrow family had gone to bed and the house was quiet. Well, as quiet as an old farmhouse could be. He’s being productive, switching between his twitter app and the news channel on the Crooked slack, legs swung up onto Ronan’s lap. Ronan’s reading his kindle with one hand and using the other one to gently massage Lovett’s ankle. It feels nice, intimate, normal in a way that he misses when they are apart and appreciates now.

“Can you even believe this shit?” Lovett muses, tapping out of a Washington Post article before the third paragraph because why would he do this to himself when he's supposed to be _on_ _holiday._

“Yes,” Ronan replies without looking up from his book, and Lovett huffs because it was clearly a rhetorical question and Ronan knows it. Ronan definitely knows it, and he chuckles, his eyes still not leaving his page as he takes Lovett’s hand to press his lips to it. 

“Hey,” he starts, not fully sure where this sentence will end now that he’s started it. “What would you do if I asked you to marry me? Right now?”

Oh. Sure. Okay.

Ronan takes a moment, then finally lifts his head with a knowing smile on his lips. “Right now, Jonathan? Can I at least finish this chapter first?”

They both grin at each other and then it hits him like a tidal wave or an earthquake, or really, like something he's maybe known all along. Suddenly the joke turns very real, turns into something solid and urgent, propelling him forward. 

“No, really. I’m being serious.”

Ronan puts his kindle down in his lap and looks at him again, “If you asked me, I’d say yes.”

Ronan says it like Lovett already knows this and yeah, maybe he does, maybe they've had this conversation before. He lets out a breath, because okay. Maybe this is a real thing. 

“Jonathan,” Ronan said, bringing him back to reality. His hand is back on his ankle, grounding him down.

“Hmm.”

“You haven’t actually asked me yet.”


End file.
